More clothes for a cause

I realize there are lots of great causes- charities and research groups that need money to operate. I have a bias toward breast cancer research. My grandmother died of breast cancer and I’ve had my own scare (you can read that story after the jump).

As a result, this shirt- with 100 percent of the proceeds going to breast cancer research – is something I want. It’s long in the body, looks cute enough and it’s different. Rather than being adorned with the typical pink ribbon, it has a target for Fashion Targets Breast Cancer.

Each shirt costs $75 and comes in five colors (all of which are less assaulting on the eyes than the green one shown). To check it out, or buy, click here.

Here is the column I did last year on my personal experience with breast cancer.

Title: Even small scars remain long after the scare

Date: September 16, 2006

“Have you ever had chemotherapy or radiation,” she asked, wiping the ink markings off my skin. Moments earlier, a needle one I refused to look at, but imagine is like a spear coming out a caulking gun pierced my skin. With three quick sticks that sounded like a staple gun, my doctor biopsied the lump in my breast. Cancer was never a reality not when I found the lump, had the ultrasound or put on my hospital gown for this appointment until I heard the words chemotherapy and radiation .

Those two words caught my breath.

This is the second time I’ve been in such a situation. Last time it was a lumpectomy, when I was in my early 20s. I didn’t give it much thought, I truly believed “this can’t happen to me.”

As I laid on the table, studying the lump on the ultrasound monitor, my first thought wasn’t “I could die,” but, “What if I lose a breast?”

I’m not usually self-conscious, but this was more than just a pimple or bad hair day. I know some see these views as shallow, and perhaps they are, but if I had cancer, so much that is my feminity would be lost at least temporarily. I could lose my hair, experience a substantial weight change.

Worse yet, what if I had a mastectomy?

My hair, my curves, my breasts make me a woman as much as my love for shopping and the occasional unexplained tears.

Several years ago I covered a fashion show hosted by the American Cancer Society. I met local breast cancer survivors. Many of the women were in their 20s. My age. I was struck, even then, by their poise and positive attitudes.

That story stuck with me, and I gave it a lot of thought in the weeks, months, even years following. Many of the women had one breast, and in some cases both, removed and maintained their positive attitudes.

Modesty did not exist for these women. They readily lifted their shirts and unhooked their bras, displaying reconstructive surgery. We talked about sex and intimacy. Most were married and admitted the relationship made having breast cancer easier. They couldn’t imagine going through treatment while still in the dating world.

Could I attract a mate if I was missing a breast?

I don’t know.

Would a man, at first, be uneasy with what’s left?

Perhaps. And I wouldn’t fault him for that.

I already worry about the two tiny scars on the top of my left breast I’ve had since that lumpectomy. My skin, otherwise smooth and unscarred, is puckered ever so slightly, like a hem on a silk dress that’s been sewn by a novice.

That first time around, I’d found two lumps, my gynecologist and radiologist examined them and determined they should go. The pain after the surgery was temporary a few days at the worst and the results were negative. The scars, while I see them fade a little more as time passes, remain.

They peek out just a bit, even when I’m wearing a bra or bathing suit. It may be something only I notice, but I’m conscious about it, especially when it comes to boyfriends.

I acknowledge it early, with no hemming and hawing. Just a “I have two small scars, and this is why.”

I’ve had to have that talk a couple times. While it gets less awkward as the years pass and the reactions remain similar (“it’s no big deal”), the thought of explaining much greater scars both emotional and physical is near impossible to comprehend.

As the days after the biopsy passed and I waited for the results, my worries extended to the real, meaty stuff. What does a cancer diagnosis mean? Could I have the positive attitude so many people maintain in the face of such a disease? (I didn’t think so.) How would I pay my mortgage and other bills if I got too sick to work? And, yes, what if I died?

In reality I know even if I had a positive diagnosis, I’d most likely survive. As a healthy 20-something, breast cancer usually doesn’t mean death.

But no matter how deep and upsetting those other thoughts, the intimacy issues kept re-entering my mind like an ex you just can’t get over.

I cried when the biopsy came back. It was benign.

Yet not a day passes I don’t think about what could have been. And I continue being grateful I only have small scars.

Kristi Gustafson can be reached at 454-5494 or by e-mail at kgustafson@timesunion.com.

6 Responses

Had this been posted in 2009, I’m positive the responses would have probably exceeded any other post you’ve ever done. Sorry to hear what you went through then physically and what you face emotionally in the future. I lost an ex-girlfriend to breast cancer and was able to reconnect with her just before she died. The toll it took on her and her family was devistating. I hope that all continues well for you and my belated condolences on the loss of your grandmother. :(

I read this article several months through tears. Not sure why I didn’t comment at the time. I guess I’m more likely to have something to say when I can be funny (I hope), than when it’s a serious topic. Anyway, I agree with DaveToo, very well written Kristi.